Fragments of you, under my skin
by rootesie
Summary: It's Ianto's first day at Torchwood Three, and he has a lot to do. Exploring the development of Jack and Ianto's relationship between the flashback in Fragments, to They Keep Killing Suzie, filtered through the lens of sexual obsession. Dark, angsty smut.
1. Chapter 1 Self Abuse

**Warnings:** Violence, language, masturbation, m/m sex.

**Author's notes: **This fic traces the development of Jack and Ianto's relationship between the flashback in _Fragments_ through to _They Keep Killing Suzie_. It is a completed fic, to be posted one chapter a day for the next five, each chapter being approximately 4,000 words.

Also, I've been heavily influenced by _Moving In_ by Calico, which gives a similar first day encounter but from Jack's POV. There's no way I could ever hope to better that fic, but I thought instead I'd offer what something similar might have been like from Ianto's POV.

**Self Abuse**

_You go to work._

*****

"You've used one of these before, haven't you?" the computer expert enquires, her voice soft and hesitant.

"I certainly have, Ms. Sato. All you need to do is let me know how you all take your coffee, and I'll be around with them in about ten minutes."

"Please, call me Toshiko," she smiles, the shy reserve bordering on the coy.

Ianto smiles back.

"Certainly, Ms. Toshiko. Now, I have you down as a woman who likes her coffee frothy and sweet. Am I right?" He raises an enquiring eyebrow and she giggles a little. He likes her already. It's a surprise, as he hadn't been expecting to like any of them. It's going to make it so much harder to do what he has to do.

After talking him through the team's preferences, and pointing out Jack's favourite mug, she walks back to her workstation. His eyes follow her, the diminutive frame and graceful movements reminding him of all he has lost. He stifles the rising pang of sorrow by concentrating on the coffee machine, observing that he'll need to take the whole thing apart and give it a proper cleaning. He sighs, looking around the kitchenette. He'll be doing a lot of tidying and scrubbing around here. It's a distraction, at any rate.

He's doing okay. He's doing fine.

*****

_It's okay, you did fine, she said._

_You shook your head as you tore off the ridiculous "fuck me" belt she'd told you to wear. You'd told her you'd always been attracted to men. You'd told her you'd never done anything about it. You'd told her you didn't think this was a good idea. You'd do it if you loved me, she'd said._

_You'll just have to try again in the morning, she said. _

_You ripped open your fly, thwarted lust making you savage. Your hands were shaking and he hadn't even let you touch him, for fuck's sake. You'd done all that careful research, all that stalking, and it turned out you weren't even his type._

_Don't worry, darling. You'll get us in there somehow, she said._

_You bent down over her, seeking a strip of unblemished flesh to suck and bite as you fisted your cock furiously. You licked her skin; cool, coppery, tasting strangely salty until you realised that was your tears, rolling down your cheeks. You didn't want this. You didn't want to be wondering what his cum would taste like. You didn't want to be picturing him as you came with a joyless shudder._

_It doesn't matter, she said._

_You wiped up the blood, muttering your apologies for using her so carelessly._

_You couldn't meet her eyes when she squeezed your hand._

*****

"Okay, if you'd like to roll up your sleeve I can get a blood sample and run a few tests," the doctor commands, his eyes on the screen in front of him as he enters the data from Ianto's physical examination. An examination that had been surprisingly invasive. Ianto's nerves hadn't been eased by Dr. Harper's brusque bedside manner and avoidance of eye-contact.

"Tests? What kind of tests?" What could he possibly need to be tested for?

"Blood-borne diseases, mostly. It's standard Torchwood staff protocol. There's a high risk of injury in this job. I'm sure you must have had it done at Torchwood One."

Ianto shakes his head, then realising that the medic hasn't seen him, clears his throat. "No, I had a desk job. Didn't really need a full medical for that. Didn't think I would here either."

"Well then, lucky you, because Jack's asked me to give you the full works. All diseases that can be transmitted by any bodily fluids or close physical contact. That's what he said." At this he finally looks up, eyes narrowed, voice dripping scorn. "Can't think why all that would be necessary for a tea boy, can you?"

Uncomfortably aware of the heat rising up his neck then into his cheeks, Ianto curses himself for getting so easily wound up. He concentrates on rolling up his left sleeve and proffers his arm to Dr. Harper, watching closely as the medic wipes his skin and deftly inserts the needle into the clearest vein. It makes sense to observe how to do these things properly. Who knew when he might have to do something like this for her? Watching the blood running up the tube into the waiting syringe, he has flashbacks of the first few hours getting her hooked up into the unit. Desperately trying to decipher the alien technology under her garbled tuition, tense with the knowledge that if he didn't get her in there soon, then she would be lost forever.

Distraction is best when the memories threaten to overwhelm him. But what to say to this hostile, sarcastic man who seemed to have taken an instant dislike to him?

"So, will it take long for the results to come through?" His voice sounds fairly controlled, and Dr. Harper probably won't notice that he's shaking.

"Oh, you just can't wait, can you? God, you're as bad as him. He was in here first thing, wanting the all clear. Well, don't worry, with all of this wonderful alien tech I'll be able to give you the go ahead about two minutes." The doctor's voice is low, but the dislike seeps through with every word. "Then you can go and tell him you're safe; assuming you are, of course."

Face burning, Ianto glares back at Dr. Harper, who just smirks infuriatingly.

"It's not what you think," he mutters. "I'm not like that."

"Ianto, I don't give a flying fuck what you're like or what you're up to with the boss. Just stay out of my way and I'll stay out of yours, okay? And make sure you remember that I outrank you in every way. Some of us here got our jobs because of our credentials, not because we shagged the boss." Dr. Harper pulls the needle out a little more forcefully than seems strictly necessary, and Ianto watches the blood well up out of the neat puncture wound before he is given a swab to hold in place.

The next two minutes are excruciating, and he tries not to give away his nerves with any bodily tics, sitting poker-straight on the edge of the examination table. He's clean, how could he be otherwise? But just knowing what Dr. Harper is checking for and the inferences he is making is incredibly discomfiting. He suspects that the evidence of his recent experimentation is written on his flesh. The doctor was bound to leap to the wrong conclusion.

"Right then, you'll be thrilled to hear that you've got the official, Dr. Harper all clear. You can go and tell Jack that you're ready to go."

*****

_You wanted to know everything. You wanted to be prepared. You didn't want to make a fool of yourself again. You didn't want a repeat of the morning when he'd brushed off your hand and you'd been so close to grabbing him by those lapels and pushing him back against the wall. You wanted to make him recognise your need and want you as ferociously as you wanted him._

_You pushed your slickened finger against the tight ring of muscle, breathing deeply to calm yourself, remembering to loosen your jaw and shoulders. You were in, and you paused a moment before pushing in further. You liked the way it felt, so you tried another finger, bending them inside you until you found your prostate. Your body convulsed as a jolt of electricity arced through you. You'd never realised it would feel that intense. You lay there, panting, wanting more than just your fingers inside you. You contemplated the dildo, lying on the bed next to you, still glistening with your saliva. You'd chosen it because it felt silky and warm, as far from cold metal as you could get without the use of someone else's flesh._

_You lubed it up, worked it in slowly, hissing as you breached your tight ring. You wondered if he would be even bigger than the silicone toy. You feared that he might be, but the thought made you even harder. You found your fingers were trembling as you began to work the fake cock in and out of you. _

_You didn't want to remember whose name you shouted as you came._

*****

"Jack tells me you're familiar with Weevils," the brusque woman says. Ianto can't tell if that tone signifies disapproval or simply disinterest. He murmurs his assent.

"Well, we won't be needing your help catching any, that's a job for us field agents, but you will be taking over looking after these ones. They need feeding once a day, and we clean the cells out every now and again."

It looks like _now and again_ must mean _once in a blue moon_. The stench and the filth are overpowering. Ianto isn't particularly fond of Weevils, but no creature deserves to live in conditions like these. He resigns himself to the fact that he will be coming back here tomorrow and washing these cells from top to bottom. But not today. Today he needs to keep himself clean and fragrant. He's gone to a lot of trouble.

"Right then, on with the tour. Jack wants you to have a look at the archives. They're in a bit of a state. Should keep you out of harm's way, sorting that lot out. Then we'll have a quick peek at the lower levels. Not much of interest down there though."

Ianto follows Ms. Costello, ever alert for potential hiding places. The lower levels sound promising.

*****

_You prepared yourself for your first day with far more care than you'd ever put into getting ready for a date. You shit, shaved, then showered yourself inside and out. You agonised over which combination of shirt and tie he'd like best. You slipped a couple of condoms and the rest of the lubricant into your inner jacket pocket. You stared at yourself in the mirror, wondering if you were attempting too much: to start a new job; to scout out and prepare a place for her; to seduce your boss. You wondered what kind of a man you were, to be brimming with such excitement, terror and sorrow, yet to hide it all so perfectly._

_You remembered the press of his body against yours as you lay in the warehouse the previous night. You'd wanted to kiss him, but you'd promised her you wouldn't, even though she'd said that she wouldn't mind. You wanted to keep something back for her. You wondered if you had time to drive by the storage unit and see her before work. You decided not to risk it. _

_You felt guilty. _

_You told yourself that this was all for her sake. _

_You weren't convinced._

_You slammed the door on your way out._

*****

"So Jones, Ianto Jones, how's your first day been? I hope my little team did their best to help you fit in." Captain Harkness is leaning back against the Tourist Office counter. The others have just left for the pub. The absence of an invitation was conspicuous, but Toshiko did have the decency to look back with apologetic eyes, before trailing after Dr. Harper and Ms. Costello.

Ianto dissembles, wondering whether to make his move now. He looks up at the CCTV camera. The Captain follows his gaze.

"Those things are all over the upper levels. Toshiko reviews all the footage every morning. I have to remember not to wander around naked in the middle of the night. Well, not unless I wanna give her a special treat." Brilliant teeth gleam in the incandescent light. "Still, there are a few little blind spots. Let me show you something. Through there."

Ianto steps through the bead curtain and into the tiny back room, a corridor between the toilet at one end and the kitchenette at the other. A place crammed with files and boxes, thick with dust. He moves down to the end, where there's a little space in front of the toilet door. The bead curtain whispers behind him. The air is suffused with those intoxicating pheromones the Captain uses. His breathing speeds up. He turns around.

Captain Harkness lounges against the wall with his upper body, his hips jutting out. There's a smirk on his lips and a sparkle in his eyes.

"This particular part of the Hub, for instance, is definitely not covered by the network."

"Is that so, sir?"

"You don't need to call me sir, Ianto. Not after hours. It's kinda weird."

It's as if all the moisture has been sucked out of Ianto's mouth. He knows that this is his chance, but as the Captain - Jack - shows no sign of moving it looks like it will be up to him. He licks his lips, raking his eyes over Jack's body. His gaze snags on the crotch area. He can't help it, there's a loose thread on the fly seam.

"Excuse me... Jack, but as your butler, I need to attend to your clothing." Jack raises his eyebrows but otherwise remains still, letting Ianto approach, picking his way through the piles of boxes.

Sinking to his knees in front of his new boss, Ianto looks up to see an expression of delighted surprise. Who would have thought a man could look so beautiful? He reaches out for the thread, and keeping his eyes on Jack's, bites through it. The effect is electric. Those eyes turn from blue to black, and a swelling pushes out at the fabric by Ianto's cheek. He turns to it, and gently mouths the erection through the thick cotton. That scent is even stronger down here, and it stirs his own body into a response. He hears Jack's breathing hitch as his fingers work at the fly buttons, and his own cock springs into life when he realises that he doesn't wear any underwear. His fingers brush against the coarse hair and silky shaft as he frees the Jack's heavy cock. This is it. There's no going back now.

He feels his treacherous body shivering as he licks a stripe up the broad shaft, wondering how he will fit it all in his mouth. Still, there's only one way to find out. Grasping the base with one hand and taking the head into his mouth, Ianto sucks experimentally, not surprised at how delicious he is. He'd have to be, wouldn't he? Tastes as good as he looks and smells. He swirls his tongue around and tries to gauge from Jack's reactions what he's enjoying. It's a good thing he's managed to master his gag reflex, he reflects, working up and down, hand and mouth in synchrony, taking Jack deeper with every stroke. There's a guttural moan as he reaches capacity, his jaw aching with the unfamiliar exercise. For a moment he thinks it was him, but looking up at Jack's flushed, fevered face he realises his mistake. God, he's so fucking gorgeous like that. His lips so full and kissable. He wonders what he must look like right now, with his mouth clamped around Jack's cock, and the thought makes him dizzy. He swallows. Jack moans again. He hums. Another moan, the sound making his own, neglected cock twitch. He's quite enjoying this, he realises. This power over another man. This ability to make him pant and sweat and shiver. To draw out those incredibly needy sounds. Exploring with his hands now, cupping and squeezing his sac, probing his entrance; relishing the pull of Jack's hands, twisting in his hair.

But then he's pushed away, just when he thought he was really getting somewhere.

"You're gonna have to stop that. I want to last a bit longer," Jack rasps, arousal making him rough as he hauls Ianto to his feet and spins him around, pinning him to the wall.

Jack dives in for a kiss and Ianto turns his head, exposing his neck, loosening his tie and buttons as his neck is ravished. He undoes his fly, pushing down on Jack's shoulders before he has a chance to try for his lips again.

"I see, getting a little impatient are we? Well, I like a lover who knows what they want," Jack purrs, before teasing Ianto mercilessly. Nudging, nuzzling and licking when all he wants is a good hard suck. Reaching around to knead his buttocks gently. He digs his fingers into Jack's scalp, thrusting against him to give him the message. He doesn't want to have to beg, for fuck's sake. When Jack finally takes him into his mouth, he's ashamed to own up to the low keening sound that issues from somewhere deep in his chest. He has a feeling that he's lost control of the situation, and it alarms him. Frightens him that all he wants to do is pound into Jack's hot, wet throat until he obliterates himself.

"Oh no, not yet," Jack chides, chuckling as Ianto bites back a whimper.

And then those hands are spinning him round again, driving him up against the wall and groping his arse shamelessly. Ianto fumbles in his jacket pocket, hands shaking. Holds the tube and the foil wrapped packet out behind him. There's a low chuckle.

"Good idea, but we won't be needing this," as the condom drops to the floor. "Owen's checked us both out. We're fine."

"But... I'd prefer it if you used one, sir."

There's a low growl. "It's Jack, and I hate those fiddly little things. Haven't been able to feel what I'm doing properly for years now. I want to feel you, no barriers," Jack's voice turns silky as he slips his slickened fingers inside, emphasising his point. Ianto gasps as he twists them inside him, knowing he'll capitulate, but not wanting to submit too readily.

"Now, do you want me to fuck you, or not?"

He screws his eyes shut, saying nothing, feeling his legs being pushed wider apart. The fingers withdraw, only to be replaced by a warm, wet pressure; the intimate contact startling Ianto. He finds himself panting as Jack's tongue explores him. It feels fucking incredible. Why did she never do this for him? His knees start to buckle as Jack's tongue pushes into him. He clings to the wall, moaning as the tingling heat coalesces at the base of his spine. Tries to stop himself thrusting back, demanding more of that wonderful fullness. He actually whimpers when Jack pulls out, biting down hard on his lower lip to prevent his traitorous body humiliating him further. Sensing Jack stand up behind him, he leans his forehead against the rough wall, dislodging cobwebs as he splays out his fingers for purchase. Pushes his arse out in an unspoken invitation.

And then Jack's there, hands grasping his hips, pushing into him slowly and steadily. Ianto forces the tension out of his shoulders, trying to melt into the wall and just welcome this intrusion. Tries not to fight it, that bursting pressure that makes him doubt his ability to cope. And then, mercifully, Jack halts. He can feel Jack's hips hard against him, realises that this is it; as deep as he can go. He heaves a sigh of relief, shuddering as he exhales.

"Ianto, have you ever done this before?" And there's concern in his voice. Almost a tenderness. Ianto feels tears prickle behind his eyes as lips brush against his neck, hands stroke his trembling flanks.

Ever done what? Ever cheated on your girlfriend at her insistence? Ever seduced your new boss so that he won't wonder why you're so keen to hang around after hours? Ever been fucked by a man?

"I know what I'm doing," he answers, racking up yet another lie. One day soon they'll come crashing down on him, burying him under the shards of half-truths and broken promises.

Jack nuzzles at his neck, and that isn't what he wants right now, is it? He wants something fast and hard and violent. Wants to annihilate his guilt by punishing his body. But Jack seems to have other ideas, taking his time to pull out, before sliding back in again at a measured pace, all the while licking his neck and caressing, pushing his hands up under his shirt. He begs silently, twitching his hips to demand a faster pace, rougher treatment. As Jack gets the message he's able to thrust back as he wants to, pulverising himself against the ruthless pounding, crying out his pain and pleasure. And then the hands close around his cock, the insistent pressure sending him spinning over the edge, the shattering climax roaring through him and leaving him blank, barely aware of Jack riding out his own orgasm inside him.

Coming to, feeling Jack panting against him, looking down at the cum pooling on the floor. Inhabiting his body again, raw, bitter and tasting of defeat. He pulls his trousers up as soon as Jack withdraws, looking around for a cloth to clean up the mess. Jack's giving him a odd look. He avoids eye contact.

*****

_I don't kiss, you say, dodging his lips as they seek yours._

_I'm pretty damn good at it, he says, before making another attempt._

_You're missing out, he says._

_I don't kiss, you say, letting the mask slip a little._

_I'll do anything else, though, you say. You watch the smile twist his lips, leaving his eyes clouded. You wonder if he's feeling hurt. You decide you don't want to know._

_Anything? He says._

_I might hold you to that, he says._

_You gulp, wondering what you've just promised. You decide you don't care. You don't want to be in control any more. You want to throw yourself at his mercy. You welcome oblivion. You definitely don't want to taste his mouth, feel his tongue moving in yours._

_I need to get to know the layout downstairs, you say. You arrange to meet him later._

_You're proud of yourself for keeping your promises._

_You still love her._

_You tell yourself that that didn't mean anything; that it was just sex._

_You want to believe it._

_You don't want to feel like this._


	2. Chapter 2 Insincerely Yours

_You told her the bare outline of what you'd been doing. You didn't want to go into any more detail. You didn't want to tell her how amazing it felt. You didn't want to divulge the guilt. You wanted to be strong._

_But was it okay? She asked. _

_Did he hurt you? She asked._

_It was fine, you said._

_It was nothing, you said._

_I'll have to be careful, she said._

_I don't want you running off with him and forgetting about me, she said._

_You told her you'd never do that. You stroked her cheek and leaned in to kiss her. You noticed her wince._

_Is the pain any better? You asked._

_You watched her shake her head, biting her lip. You decided to up the medication. You knew that she'd be __less lucid. Yo__u decided that would probably be a good thing. You weren't sure for whom._

*****

Ianto Jones can't sleep. It's not just a one-off; he has this problem every night after he returns to his empty flat, leaving her trapped in her underground dungeon with only the rats for company. He gets in to the barely furnished rooms that don't merit being called a home, downs a stiff drink, strips and attempts to unwind under a long, hot shower, then collapses into bed. Exhaustion drags at his body, mind and soul, but still he lies awake, torturing himself with thoughts of the woman he's left at the Hub. It's no good reading: his eyes are too tired to stay focused and he can't concentrate on the plot. More alcohol only makes him maudlin. It's best just to wait it out, wait for the fatigue to win out over the circling thoughts.

And every night he attempts to give himself some small measure of comfort. A ghostly imitation of the pleasures that preceded sleep with her by his side. He tries to remember her healthy: the way her dark skin contrasted with his pale flesh; the lush softness of her body; the way she teased him with her lips and tongue; how it felt to lose himself inside her and feel her shuddering around him as she reached her own climax.

And every night her skin lightens, roughens, her flesh reshapes, hardens, and he finds himself fucking Jack in his own mind. He realises just how much he wants it. It frightens him. You'd think their activities earlier in the evening would be enough for him, but apparently not.

When he finally wanks himself to sleep, he gets a few unbroken hours before the nightmares wake him. This isn't a life, is it?

*****

_You've learned so much these past eight weeks. You've figured out the best ways to pass unnoticed in their midst. You've memorised the layout of every last passageway in this labyrinth. You've learned how to override certain CCTV and detection software programs covering the lower levels. You calculated exactly how to move her in undetected. You think you might be a genius. You suspect that you're morally bankrupt._

_You've learned that Torchwood Three is as dangerous as Torchwood One. You've seen another team mate lost. You've seen how quickly Jack replaces you all. You don't want to be replaced. You watch him with Gwen. You take note of the glances that pass between them when they think no one's looking. You decide to take a more active role in your relationship. You don't want him to get bored with you. You buy more toys to surprise him with._

_You wonder when you started to think of it as a relationship._

_You've learned a variety of new ways your body can be positioned for his pleasure. You've discovered that they please you too. You've figured out how to make him whimper and beg. You know what he tastes like all over. You wonder if his mouth tastes as good. You've developed a taste for rough sex. You leave work every night with an aching jaw and sore anus. You're disturbed by how much you enjoy the pain._

_You feel dead to the world except when he's in the room. You sparkle. You laugh. You tease. You lie._

_You go down to see her whenever you can. You're not sure if it's a pleasure or a duty. You watch her slip further and further away from you. You reassure. You hold her hand. You lie._

_You try to hold on to that fraying thread of hope._

_You call Dr. Tanizaki._

_*****_

Ianto wriggles, twitching his hips to prompt the blissfully sated man to withdraw and roll off him. He disappears into the small shower cubicle, scouring the odour of Jack and sex from his body. He doesn't want her to have to smell this. If only there were a way that he could wash his conscience clean.

Stepping back into Jack's tiny bedroom, Ianto concentrates on gathering his clothes and getting dressed. Although he faces anywhere but at the man reclining on the bed, he can feel Jack's eyes following his naked body. He wiggles his arse a little as he pulls his trousers up. It doesn't feel natural. Not like flirting at work. There's something too awkward about these moments when he leaves. The chasm between what they both want and what Ianto will allow opens between them, feeling oppressive. Jack has finally stopped asking him to stay; stopped trying to kiss his lips. He's shut away his more affectionate side.

But there's a space on the bed next to him. A man-sized space – warm and inviting. What would it feel like to lie there all night – the heat of Jack's body next to his? Would the nightmares still come? Would he get any sleep? The thought of cuddling up to Jack makes him shiver with want.

"You know what you are?" Jack asks, interrupting his musings.

"No, but I'm sure you're going to tell me," he replies, striving for a light tone; buttoning his shirt as fast as his trembling fingers will let him.

"You the most pushy bottom I've ever fucked. Always demanding: 'harder, faster, more, more, more!'"

Ianto flushes, remembering begging Jack to bite him. His fingers brush over the fresh mark on his shoulder. Is that really what he's like? But it's true; the rougher things are, the less he thinks, the less he compares. And over this past month he's grown to treasure the feeling of having been thoroughly fucked – bruised, raw and aching all over. Wearing the aftermath of Jack's attentions like an extra suit.

"Tell you what; tomorrow you can top. I want to see what you're like when you're in control. I'll be at your mercy."

Ianto looks up, startled, into Jack's teasing eyes. There's a lump in his throat that he can't shift no matter how much he swallows. His guts feel like a nest of snakes. This isn't what he wants, is it? But the image that forms of Jack spread beneath him, flushed, gasping, wincing as he rams into him ferociously, shocks his cock back to attention. He turns away so that Jack won't notice his arousal. The last thing he wants is to be tricked back into bed right now. He buttons his jacket, abandoning his tie and rolling it up in his pocket.

"Sounds like fun," he manages at last, aiming for a casual tone but painfully aware of the desire that roughens his voice. He turns around to find Jack studying him intently. Schooling his face into a smile, tight and false, Ianto heads over to the ladder.

"Tomorrow night, then," Jack calls, his voice rich with promise. "Unless you're up for another go tonight."

Ianto pauses for a moment, halfway up the ladder, before mustering his resolve and continuing on his way. Out of temptation's reach.

*****

_You think about him all day. You make stupid mistakes. You have to cover your erection by keeping your jacket buttoned. You don't think anyone notices. You try to get a grip._

_You remind yourself of why you're doing this. You think your reasons sound hollow._

_You feel guilty._

_You feel alive._

_You feel wild._

*****

"Are you sure you want to do it that way round? You wouldn't rather be able to see this handsome face when you pop my cherry?"

"Just get on your hands and knees, Jack."

Jack pouts as he complies, but Ianto can tell it's just for effect. The man never takes sex very seriously, wanting to fill every moment with flirty banter. Still, he's figured out a few good ways to shut him up. To reduce him to incoherency. Yes, he's been an eager pupil, lapping up new tricks and testing them out.

He runs his hands over Jack's broad back, down over the hairless globes of his buttocks. He's such a fine looking man, and having Jack in this position at long last makes him giddy with lust. He runs his fingers down into the crease, pulling those cheeks apart and diving in with his tongue. It shouldn't taste this good, surely?

God, those noises he makes! He's never known anyone to be so abandoned, to sound so wanton, so sexy. It's a disloyal thought, so he pushes it away. Thinks of nothing but pleasuring Jack until the ache in his jaw becomes unbearable, and a niggling thought makes itself known.

"What do you mean, pop your cherry? You can't expect me to believe you've never been fucked before." Ianto leans over to the crate next to the bed, grabbing the lube and taking the opportunity to run his tongue down Jack's back on the return to his previous position.

"N-never been fucked by you before." Jack's voice is ragged, his breath hitching as Ianto opens him further with slickened fingers. "It's kinda like new every time, wouldn't you say?"

"Hmmm..."

"It's okay, Ianto. You can admit it. I won't think any less of you. We're all beginners at some point."

"Don't know what you're talking about." He doesn't want this to be any more significant than it is. He never lost his virginity with her, after all. It seems unfair that this man should be able to claim so many firsts. Still, Jack will never be his first love. That spot's already taken. And he cuts off any further conversation by pressing his cock against Jack's entrance, then pushing in slowly.

But when he feels the ease with which Jack takes him in, hears the moan escape his lips, sees that perfect, intact body before him – his pent up fury explodes. The heady mix of lust and anger drives him in with force, and he watches his fingers digging into Jack's hips as he pulls back and pounds in again, without mercy.

"Ah! Fuck, Ianto! Take it easy!"

But he can't. Can't forgive Jack for not being her. Can't forgive himself for wanting him more. And so he punishes that perfect, pale body; unscarred, unmarred, unaltered. Setting a relentless pace, squeezing his fingers harder and taking his pleasure with no thought for Jack's. But then he feels Jack contract around him, hears him shout, and it tips him over, crying out as he tumbles into the void.

He's resting on Jack's back, the man below him heaving with great gasps of air, convulsing with the aftershocks of his own orgasm. The sweat cooling on his back makes him shiver, and then he hears the last sound he expects right now.

Laughter.

He withdraws and rolls off Jack's shaking body, sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands while he recovers, his breathing calms. Why the fuck is he laughing?

"Christ, Ianto! You're a wild thing, aren't you? I haven't been fucked that hard in a long time. Possibly ever. Although saying that, there was this circus strongman..." And then a hand falls on Ianto's shoulder, squeezing gently. Rubbing circles on his cooling skin. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Fine. I'm fine. I'd better be going." He shrugs off Jack's hand and stands, looking around for his clothes.

"You trying to treat me mean to keep me keen, by any chance?" Ianto gives him a blank look as he pulls on his underwear, the phrase seeming to have no bearing on anything he understands about the situation. "You know what I mean, Ianto. Never kissing, never sticking around afterwards. A cuddle never hurt anyone. Well, not unless you try cuddling a Zocci. They're kinda spiky!"

"I need to get home, Jack. I'm tired."

"You could always sleep here."

Ianto looks up from pulling on his socks. Studies Jack's face to work out in what spirit the offer is made. Can't decide, so aims for a light tone. "Do you honestly think I'd get any sleep here?"

"Hey! I can behave myself. Sometimes. If I have to, that is."

Ianto can't help but smile at the mischievous expression that lights up Jack's face. It's so tempting to just climb back in that tiny bed and kiss him senseless. But that's just because he misses her at night, isn't it? Nothing in particular about that man. Just the warmth of another human body, that's all.

"It's not that. Your bed's too small." Pulling his shirt on and fumbling with the buttons.

"It's cosy. You have to snuggle."

"I like to move around in my sleep."

"You're just afraid you'll end up kissing me."

He can't answer that one. It's too close to the truth, and he finds himself sitting on the edge of the bed, still only half-dressed, his head in his hands. He feels Jack's hand on his shoulder and realises with a start that they're back where they were a few minutes ago. This time he doesn't shrug the hand away. He senses Jack moving behind him, and then finds arms and legs encircling him from behind. Warm lips on his neck. He leans back into the embrace, feeling like he's free falling without a parachute.

"There. That's not so hard is it?"

One of those hands supports his head, angles it. He feels breath hot against his face. Warm lips press against his, and he can't help but respond. A sob chokes him.

"Hey, Ianto, what is it?" Fingers wipe away the tears. Soft lips graze his eyelids. It's too much. He can't break down with Jack. He can't risk it, not knowing what secrets will come tumbling out. But he has to offer something. A version of the truth, just to stop him asking, trying, kissing...

"Canary Wharf... I lost her. I loved her, Jack. It's too raw. Too soon. I'm sorry."

"I wish you'd let me help you." Ianto wants the tone to be demanding, arrogant, so that he can hate Jack a little. But all he hears is undeserved tenderness, and it hurts so badly. "It just isn't the same without kissing."

"You are helping." And it's another lie, because all this man is doing is fucking his head up even more. But it seems to do the trick, because Jack doesn't protest this time when he gets dressed and climbs up the ladder.

"Same time tomorrow, then?" And for the first time, it's a question rather than an assumption. He pauses, sighs, nods.

*****

_You're too tired to spend any time with her tonight. You don't bother trying to wake her once you've checked over the equipment. You worry about the strange energy surges down here. You wonder how long you can keep this up. _

_You remember that you didn't use a condom. You worry about your state of mind. You wonder if you have a subconscious death wish. You wonder if staying with him all night could be considered self-protection. You think he still goes out on the prowl after you've left._

_You remind yourself that Dr Tanizaki will be here in a week._

_You promise yourself that you can make it until then._

*****

"Cheers, Ianto. I could do with a break while I wait for this bloody thing to finish." Owen settles back in his chair with his feet on the desk and takes a sip of coffee.

Ianto dares to perch against the table, glad to have caught the man in a good mood. He asks about the experiment, and is treated to a surprisingly technical and detailed explanation of future medical developments. Owen obviously doesn't think of him as quite such an idiot these days. He nods and makes interested noises at the right moments, and indeed would be fascinated if he weren't so consumed with worry... Worries.

Staring down at his feet, he realises that Owen has stopped speaking. He has to take his chance now, while the others are out for the evening. To get at least one of his problems dealt with by a professional. If only the other problems were as straightforward as this one.

"Owen, I need to ask you to do something for me."

"Right. Well spit it out then."

He takes a deep breath to fortify himself. "I want another blood test for..." He meets Owen's cool gaze for a moment, then quickly looks back at his shoes. "STDs" It comes out as a whisper.

"I see. Well, if you will be so reckless as to sleep around without protection, then it's only to be expected. Can't have you putting anyone else at risk, can we?" Owen starts assembling the equipment he needs. "Does Jack know about this?"

"Jack's the one I'm worried about."

"Ianto, if you've gone and infected him with some scummy disease, I'm going to fucking kill you!"

"It's not like that! He's the one who's in danger of infecting me. I have no idea what he gets up to when he's not with me." Although he does have an idea where Jack goes, bearing in mind the sort of places he frequented when Ianto was stalking him. It doesn't set his mind at ease.

Owen raises his eyebrows and shakes his head, but gets on with prepping Ianto's arm; efficient, but gentle. As he draws out the blood, he offers a comment. "Don't you think that if he were in the habit of taking risks on a regular basis, he'd of caught something by now?"

"I suppose so."

"I mean, don't get me wrong, I think you're fucking nuts to be taking chances bare-backing, but if you must, then I reckon Jack's a safer bet than most guys." He turns away to start running his tests, muttering to himself, "I fucking knew he was gay. I knew it!"

Ianto lets this slip by, unchallenged. Now would not be the best time for a debate about bisexuality. Just let Owen concentrate on his work, then this will be over as soon as possible.

"Now I know why you drink so much coffee. It relaxes the internal anal sphincter muscles, you know." The computer makes a sound, and Owen studies the screen. "Well, you are a lucky bugger, this time anyway. You're totally clean."

Ianto mutters his thanks and turns to leave, glad to feel the knot in his guts loosening slightly.

"Ianto?" There's no trace of sarcasm this time, so he turns back. "I think that maybe we should make this a regular thing. Check you out every week or so. Can't have you worrying about it all the time. It's not good for team dynamics, or some such bullshit."

The unexpected kindness makes tears prickle at the back of his eyes, and the thanks comes out sounding much more heartfelt than Owen seems comfortable with.

"Go on then, get out of my lab, I've an experiment to complete," followed by some muttered words that sound suspiciously like "bloody poofs. Always such bloody drama queens."

Ianto pauses on the steps, unwilling to let this one pass.

"Oh, and Owen?"

"Huh?" He's already half-immersed in this experiment.

"You and Jack both drink far more coffee than I do. Think about it," he smirks, making a swift exit before the surprised looking doctor has a chance to think up a comeback.

*****

_You spend your days clearing up after people. You spend your evenings fucking Jack. You find very little time to be with her. You don't think she notices._

_You want this to be over. You want this to continue. You don't know what you want any more._

_You get the call that Dr Tanizaki will be here tomorrow._

_You know that everything will change tomorrow._

_You invite Jack to your flat._

_Let's keep this as just a work thing, he says._

_You want to hate him._

_You wish you could._

*****

Jack's barely through the office door before Ianto pushes him against the wall, holding his hands out to either side, already desperate. Already hard.

"Well, you're certainly excited tonight, aren't you? What's got into you? Well, nothing yet, I suppose. I'll have to remedy that."

Ianto growls, grinding his hips into Jack's, surprising himself with the ferocity of his need. Jack's still talking; inconsequential nonsense. Nothing matters now. This is probably the last night they'll have together. Everything is in place for tomorrow.

And because it doesn't matter anymore, he silences Jack with his mouth, kissing him hard, brutally. He pulls back, opening his eyes to see the amazement in Jack's, before falling onto him again. This time Jack responds, meeting him in a messy tangle of tongues and clash of teeth. He finally learns how good Jack tastes; just how cleverly his tongue can move, his teeth tease. Ianto hears someone moaning and realises it's him. God, he's missed this. Never realised its importance until he banned it.

They never make it to Jack's bed, frotting against each other, lips locked, until Ianto's need builds to the point where he can't hold back any longer - almost biting Jack's tongue off as he shudders to a jerky climax. He then sinks to his knees, roughly freeing Jack's cock before sucking him off, looking up to see those blue eyes on his, those perfect lips swollen and reddened. The sight is enough to make him hard again, and he redoubles his assault on Jack until he has the man twitching and fisting his hair as he pumps his mouth full of cum. He doesn't bother to swallow all of it, rising to kiss him again with a mouthful of his own semen, which Jack seems to appreciate, moaning into the kiss. It's slower now the heat of their urgency has passed, but no less passionate, the sparring replaced by an exploration of each other, sucking lips and tongues, drawing back to rub lips together, against cheeks, ears, necks...

*****

_You fuck him on his back, leaning forward, kissing him with every in-stroke. You take it slowly, building the pace gradually until you can barely get your lips to meet. You see him flushed, love-bitten. You think he's never looked more beautiful._

_You don't want to think about anything else._

_You keep one promise. You break another._

_You don't think it matters anymore._

_You have this night._


	3. Chapter 3 Broken

**Broken**

_You follow the big crack in the ceiling. You count thirty eight radiating cracks. You start with the dots on the wallpaper. You're not getting out of bed ever again._

_You get up for a piss. You tongue feels like sandpaper. You look like shit._

_You get a glass of water._

_Your fridge is full of ready meals. You don't remember buying them. You don't want to remember anything. Your stomach growls. You heat up a chicken tikka. You may as well be eating cardboard and wallpaper paste. You devour every last mouthful._

_You go back to bed. You clutch her pillow._

_You don't want to dream._

_You don't want to see their faces._

_You're not getting out of bed ever again._

*****

"Ianto."

"Fuck off."

Jack ignores this, pushing past him into the hallway. He's laden with M&S bags, and he heads for the kitchen. Ianto chokes on the smell of him, nausea cramping his guts. He runs for the bathroom, heaving over the toilet bowl until his stomach is empty.

A hand rubs his back, but he's too weak to shake it off. He feels Jack's arms reach under his and haul him up. He slumps against the sink, the lip digging hard into his abdomen, his throat burning and the stench of vomit filling his nostrils. Hearing water running, he automatically reaches for the tap, splashing it onto his face. The cold revives him and he remembers how much he wants to kill this man. This murderer.

Hearing Jack re-enter the room, he starts to tell him to leave, but then a cool glass meets his lips and he has to drink. The water soothes his throat for a short moment before the burning resumes. He's not going to accept this. Not going to give in to Jack, the ministering angel. He spits out the next mouthful, aiming for that perfect face with it's smug sorrow. Shock, anger and guilt race across Jack's features, before he reassembles his sympathetic mask.

"Not quite what you wanted? Well, I would go make you some coffee, but I'm not sure if it'll help settle your stomach." Jack rubs his hands over his face before finding a towel and drying first Ianto, then himself.

Ianto does his best to put all of his hatred into his voice and eyes. "I want you to leave."

"I'm here to help you, Ianto. I've put you on suspension for four weeks, and I'm going to keep a close eye on you. I need to make sure that you're in a fit state to return to work."

"You think I'm ever going back to that place? That slaughterhouse?"

"I think you'll feel differently in a couple of weeks."

"Just fuck off, Jack. Fuck off and die."

"I'm here to look after you."

Ianto studies the concerned face. Wants to wipe that pity off it. Make him just that little bit less perfect. Make him pay.

His fist makes crunching contact with Jack's jaw, sharp pain blooming in his knuckles. Jack just stands there, swaying, his lip bloodied. He spits a tooth out into his hand, looking at it with wide-eyed curiosity. The sight makes Ianto's blood boil and he launches a flurry of blows against that body; that body that tempted him away from her. Made him break his last promise. Made him hate himself. His vision narrows, grey clouds obliterating the periphery, so that all he can see are his fists driving into Jack, pummelling him back against the bathroom wall. Every moment he expects to be knocked into sweet oblivion – to be overpowered and forced to submit. He hears somebody yelling something about wanting to kill someone, the sound distant through the rushing of blood in his ears.

But Jack just stands there, unresisting. Silent.

Eventually, his rage spent, Ianto sways, feeling those strong arms holding him up. He looks up into a bloodied face, but sees only sorrow in those deep blue eyes.

Jack swallows before attempting to speak, and when he does the words sound thick, wet with blood. "You need some rest. I'll get Owen to come over later to give you a check up." He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small packet, now smeared with blood. Grimacing, he wipes his hand on the towel before shaking a small tablet onto it. "Here, take this."

Ianto recoils, recognising the tiny pill for what it is. "You can't take my memories; they're all I have left!"

"This is just a tiny dose. Just enough to get you into a deep sleep. You might forget the last half hour, but that's probably not a bad idea."

Ianto looks at the puffy face, blood running down the chin. "I need to remember."

"Okay, fine! But look, I've got sleeping pills here. They're in a blister pack. Are you willing to take a couple of these?"

Ianto studies them, heaves a weary sigh and nods. Jack's smile has a gap in the front. He doesn't know if he should be pleased or horrified at the sight. Everything just feels numb.

Ianto is already deep in slumber when the door clicks shut behind Jack.

*****

_You take your medication: the sedatives, the sleeping pills. You notice that Owen only ever leaves you enough for the day. You notice that all your kitchen knives are missing._

_You sit in the shower and bang your head against the wall. You want to wash the pain away. You want to turn back time and do things differently. You know that you're responsible for their deaths. You don't know what else you could have done to save Lisa._

_You wish you'd never set eyes on Captain Jack fucking Harkness._

_You think you hate him._

_You think you hate yourself more._

_You calculate how many hours you spent fucking him when you should have been with her. You decide to bang your head once for every minute you spent with him._

_Your head hurts._

_You realise that Jack's taken your spare key. You feel him lift you out of the shower and drag you to bed._

_I'm not going to let you fuck me, you say._

_That's not why I'm here, he says._

_You wonder what happened to his missing tooth. You wonder if it was all a dream. You close your eyes as he dries you with a towel and then tucks the duvet around you. You feel his hand stroke your brow. You grab hold of her pillow and bury your face into it, seeking that elusive, lingering scent. You realise that all you can smell is him._

_You want him to stay. _

_You want him to go away. _

_You don't want to want anything ever again._

*****

The days pass slowly, painfully; moments stretching to eternity as Ianto loses his sense of time in a drug induced haze. Eventually he manages to resist the tablets, and some kind of normal service resumes in his brain. Which is how he finds himself up, dressed, and making coffee for the first time in three weeks.

"How did you sleep last night?" Owen asks, as Ianto fiddles with his coffee machine.

"Not great."

"Still getting the nightmares?"

"Something like that." Ianto finally manages to get the filter holder to co-operate and starts the pump, drowning out Owen's next words.

"I said, you'd get a good night's sleep if you took the temazepam."

"They made me feel even worse the next day. Like having my head stuffed full of cotton wool. I couldn't think straight."

"You want to think straight?"

Ianto looks up in surprise. "Of course I do. How else am I going to make sense of any of this?"

Owen's eyes widen slightly, his eyebrows rise and he seems to be studying Ianto intently, who squirms under the scrutiny.

"Any more violent impulses? Any self-harming?"

Does mentally beating yourself up count? "Not for over a week."

"That's good."

"Yeah." Ianto pauses, wondering how to phrase the question he's desperate to ask. "Owen... Do you think I could come back to work now? It's been three weeks. I need something to do. Something to occupy my mind."

"Not my decision, mate. It's Jack's. Why don't you ask him?"

Ianto looks down at his hands, remembers that he's making coffee and finishes off Owen's mug with a top up of hot water. He lifts it up and inhales deeply, savouring the rich aroma before putting it down in front of Owen. It's the first time anything's smelt good since... He still can't bring himself to think the words. Just _since_.

"Cheers. We've been missing your coffee, you know?"

Ianto laughs, a harsh, bitter sound. "Is that all you miss about me?"

"Come on, Ianto. That's not what I meant. You never exactly made much of an effort to get to know us anyway. Except Jack, I suppose."

"Yeah, well... I had a lot on my mind."

"No shit! Look, Ianto, this may be none of my business, but is Jack still coming round every day?" Ianto nods. "Is that okay with you? 'Cause the rest of us could take turns if you prefer. Tosh and Gwen both said they wanted to visit you. Be warned, though, I reckon Gwen'll bombard you with photos of her weekend away with Rhys, and Tosh is dying to find someone who appreciates her latest refinements to the Rift monitoring software."

Ianto gives a small, but warm smile. "I'd like to see Toshiko, but I don't mind Jack coming over. It's okay now. We've reached an understanding."

"Are you sure you know– Oh fuck, it's none of my business what you get up to with him, is it?"

"It's not what you're thinking, Owen. We play cards."

"You play cards? Is that some kind of euphemism?"

"Not last time I checked."

"Huh!"

And Ianto finds himself smiling for the second time in a day. Things are definitely improving.

*****

_You have good days. You have bad days. You find little things set you off, like the mug that she used to like hot chocolate in. You push it to the back of the cupboard._

_You play patience. You watch daytime TV. You want to throw things at the screen. You turn it off and find a book instead. You spend a couple of days having a chronological James Bond marathon. You need something constructive to do. You need a reason to get dressed properly. You're sick of wearing comfortable clothing._

_You've started to look forward to Jack's evening visits. You play gin rummy for hours on end. You're fairly evenly matched. You don't talk. You don't touch. You don't want to. You wonder what's happened to your libido. You suppose it must be the grief. You wish it could have gone away like this after Canary Wharf. You wish the only history between you was strictly work related. You keep getting flashbacks to things you did with him. You try to concentrate on the cards in your hand._

_You haven't broken down in over twenty-four hours._

_You wake up screaming every night._

_You miss her._

_You miss work._

_You miss him._

*****

How can so much grime have accumulated in the few months he's lived here? Ianto scrubs the kitchen tiles with a vengeance, ashamed to realise that he's utterly neglected his home while spending all his time... doing other things. This isn't just because he's having company. This is a matter of pride. He feels something growing within him and wonders what it might be. It's not a bad feeling. It's something unexpected. Anticipation? Hope, perhaps? It's been too long. He's almost forgotten what they feel like; these normal, everyday emotions.

The kitchen gleams by the time Toshiko arrives, smiling bashfully as he holds the door open and waves her through to the only presentable room, then pulls out a chair for her. The small talk is stilted, both avoiding everything they most want to say. The tiny kitchen hardly seems the place for such forbidding topics. She opens her laptop instead.

"It would be such a help if you could look these over for me, Ianto. I just don't have the time, what with all these new security systems Jack's having me install. Oh!" Toshiko claps a hand over her mouth and stares at Ianto with wide eyes. "I'm so sorry. Jack asked me not to mention them."

"It's okay. I wouldn't blame him for wanting to tighten security after– after what I did."

Toshiko's brow contracts as she gives him a long, steady stare; before reaching out, clasping his hand briefly and then turning back to the laptop screen. Ianto swallows hard, her almond-shaped eyes conjuring up Dr. Tanizaki's for a brief moment. He's not ready to think about that yet. He can't afford to right now.

She talks him through the data: part of her efforts to unscramble what she believes to be an alien language translator. It's a pet project, and as such has to be set aside when things get busy.

"So you see, what with idiomatic and metaphorical language, the computer can't really cope with interpreting the data. I thought a human brain might be able to make better sense of it, and then when we have a reasonable translation of this, I can fine tune the programming.

Ianto studies the garbled phrases on the screen. There are over thirty pages of the same. It looks like quite a challenge. It looks perfect.

"Do you have any idea what the source material might be about?"

"Not a clue," Toshiko smiles as he frowns. "But Jack said it looked like the sort of data chip used to send personal correspondence across galaxies. Could be a letter to a friend or loved one, perhaps."

"It's a very long letter."

"Maybe they were a very long way away."

"Maybe..."

When Toshiko leaves, Ianto is already absorbed in the data on the screen, notepad and pen to hand. She gives a small smile in his direction as she lets herself out.

*****

_You throw yourself into Toshiko's project. You make progress. You realise that it's a love letter. You're touched by some of the things the writer says._

_You begin to write to Lisa. You try to explain what you've been feeling these last few months. You pour out your guilt, your anger, your fear... your love. You find the blame no longer lies so heavy on your soul._

_You start to remember some of the good times. You write them down. You try not to remember the end._

_You're still writing when Jack lets himself in. You're going to have to ask for that key back. You hide the pages._

_What's that, he asks._

_Just Toshiko's project, you say. You don't want to share this with him. You don't want to share anything with him. You deal the cards._

_You go into work a day early. You see him nod. You pick up the pizza boxes. You try not to see those three dead faces._

_You can't stop them finding their way into your dreams._

_You still hurt._

_You still clutch her pillow at night._

*****

They come back from their mission, trailing thunder clouds. Jack retreats to his office, jaw set and eyes red-rimmed. The others complain in barely hushed voices, rising in pitch with the pressure of anger and disbelief.

Ianto listens discreetly, gathering the salient points.

"I can't believe he just handed her over," Gwen says. "She was a child! You can't do that. You just can't do that with an innocent life. What gives him the right? It's like... murder, or slavery or something."

They storm out early, leaving no explanation, not seeking permission. He can't summon up the energy to feel their outrage, everything paling to insignificance beside the yawning chasm of his grief.

There's nothing he can do or say to make things better, so he makes coffee instead, taking the two mugs to Jack's office like a peace offering. Setting the mug in front of the brooding man, it looks for a moment like he won't be acknowledged.

Jack rubs his eyes and clears his throat. "Thank you, Ianto."

"That's alright, sir. I've finished clearing up so I thought I'd join you, if that's okay." He's not sure why he wants to do this, only aware that Jack's presence has become something of a balm, now that he doesn't seem to want anything from him.

"You're talking to me, then. I don't deserve it, you know."

Ianto doesn't know how to interpret this, so he sits down, taking a slow sip of coffee.

"It's none of my business, sir." He wonders if Jack will try to touch him again, and how he'll react if he does. That hand on his shoulder this morning had caught him unawares. He can still sense it there; the ghost of his touch lingering on his skin. Is this the return of his desire? Will he be held in thrall to this man again? It's not what he wants, and yet...

It's as if Jack can read his troubled thoughts, as he stares at Ianto hard, quizzically, and places a hand over his. The flinch is automatic, and he curses himself as Jack snatches his hand away, eyes clouded with hurt.

"I'd better get going," Ianto says, draining the last of his coffee and wondering how long it will take him to get to sleep as a result.

"You could stay." Jack's voice is small, tentative. Not a tone he's ever heard from him before. Ianto studies his face, trying to discern the subtext. Surely he doesn't expect him to climb back into his bed already?

"I have a pack of cards. Just join me for a game? Please?"

Ianto nods, slowly, feeling something heavy and leaden inside him begin to melt as Jack smiles. He smiles back, the unfamiliar movement brightening his thoughts. Perhaps they can do this. Just be friends, nothing more. Perhaps it could work.

*****

_You play cards for a couple of hours. You make your excuses and leave. You wonder why he doesn't reach out for you again. You wonder if this is disappointment you're feeling._

_You lie awake for hours. You stroke your body slowly, feeling desire suffuse your numb flesh with life again. You deliberately keep your thoughts blank. You spit on your palm and start to work your cock in earnest. You try to keep your mind empty. You know that it won't be enough. You suck the fingers of your spare hand and reach between your legs. You wish you hadn't left your dildo at the Hub, all those weeks ago. You remember using it on Jack. You picture him with it buried in his arse as he sucked your cock. You remember his wanton groans. You recall the way the sweat glistened on his back. You remember grabbing fistfuls of his hair as you fucked his face._

_You come with a series of jerks, your body protesting at its long abstinence. You remember that you hadn't meant to think of him. You reach for her pillow. You find that her fragrance has completely faded. You try to recall it. Your eyes fill with tears._

_You realise that all you can remember is Jack's scent._

_You sleep fitfully._

_You're not going to start fucking him again._

_You're not._

*****

"Come on, Ianto. You need to be able to defend yourself. If there's another security breach, I want you to have some options."

Ianto breathes deeply, attempting to hold the gun in the way Jack demonstrated.

"Not quite. Here, your fingers go like this."

As Jack adjusts his grip, the touch sends goosebumps up his arm. He shrugs him off.

"Just show me with yours, okay?"

Jack nods, his eyes downcast. Ianto curses himself. Why does he have to keep hurting people? He wants to make it better, to offer some comfort, but he has nothing to give. Nothing but his body, and that's out of the question.

There is one thing they seem to be able to do, though.

"Fancy a game of cards after this? I could teach you Chinese Patience."

Jack looks up, his eyes still troubled, but he quirks his lips in a small, lop-sided smile.

"I'll thrash you at Chinese Patience," Jack says.

Ianto smiles despite himself. "We'll just have to wait and see."

*****

_You spend your evenings on firearms training or playing cards. You don't want to go home alone. You don't want the nightmares to claim you. You don't want to spend the night with him either._

_You stay until you're dead on your feet. You leave with a muttered goodbye._

_You wonder if this is friendship._

_You sense that you both want more._

_You don't want to give in to that._

_You're not ready._

*****

"Come on you lot, it'll be fun! The great outdoors; campfires; sleeping under canvas; toasting marshmallows! Where's your sense of adventure?" Jack grins at them all like some kind of demented Scout Leader.

"If you try and pass off a night in a sodding tent in the Brecon bloody Beacons as a holiday, Jack, I'm going to hand my notice in right now. That place is only fit for sheep." Owen scowls at Jack, whose smile seems fixed in place.

"Thanks for your input, Owen, but I need you all with me. We don't know what we're facing, so the widest range of skills are called for. Ianto? Do you know how to put up a tent?"

The question is ominous. "Of course, sir, but I hardly think that's relevant."

"It certainly is! I said I wanted the whole team together on this one, didn't I? I want you to pack the SUV with everything we'll need. There should be plenty of gear down in the archives, but go out shopping for anything else that could be useful. I want you all ready to go first thing tomorrow. Practical clothes, please. Definitely no suits, no matter how good you look in them." Jack winks at Ianto, who just gapes.

What's going on? He doesn't go out in the field.

"Oh, is Ianto coming?" Gwen asks. "That's nice."

She gives him a guarded smile, which Ianto doesn't trust. Does she not want him there? Is she scared of what he'll do? How he'll cope? Does she want Jack to herself?

"Yes, Ianto is coming. It's about time he became part of the team. Also, I'll be needing my coffee fix, and nobody makes it better than he does."

"But... but wouldn't it be better if I stayed here and monitored the Rift, sir?"

Jack fixes him with serious eyes. "No, Ianto, I want you with the team. There will be no further discussion. Meeting dismissed."

Ianto stands in the empty room for a moment, a heavy feeling in his guts. Jack doesn't want to leave him alone in the Hub. He still doesn't trust him. He still wants to keep tabs on him.

*****

_You pack the tents. You worry that Jack will want to share one with you. You worry about how sound carries through canvas. You plan to steel yourself against any advances. You remember the last time you camped, with Lisa. You remember her speaking with Annie's voice; the blood running down her face. You feel nauseous._

_You take your place in the team. You fetch their food. You put up their tents. You fade into the background._

_Who was the last person you snogged? She asks._

_You listen to their answers. You ponder the entanglements. You hear him evade the question. You wonder if it was you. You wonder if he's ashamed of that._

_You want to remind him of her. You want to push him away; hold him off._

_You lie._

_It was Lisa, you say._

_You know that it should have been. You wish that you'd been strong enough to keep your promise._

_You remember his lips on yours._

_You remember him spread beneath you, looking so debauched. You remember leaning down to kiss him. You remember the taste of his mouth, the feel of his tongue, his teeth, his lips._

_Your skin tingles._

_You frown._

_You don't want him._

_You don't... do you?_


	4. Chapter 4 Crash Landing

**Crash Landing**

"S'okay, I can walk by myself." The arm from around Ianto's waist disappears, only to return as he stumbles on the low step leading up to his front door.

"Really? You think so? Well, as I'm not willing to risk you braining yourself on the stairs, I think I'll be helping out."

Ianto grumbles under his breath, but soon has to lean into Jack's support as they tackle the staircase up to his flat. Every step takes a gargantuan effort, the stairs looming above him like a forbidding mountain. Jack keeps up a running commentary about how well he's doing, and how few stairs are left to climb, which is probably meant well but makes him want to punch him. Only thing is, his arms don't want to co-operate. His whole body aches, the sharp edges of the pain only dulled by the painkillers they gave him in A&E. The painkillers that right now seem to be turning his brain to mush, all the thoughts unconnected, flapping loose when he tries to follow them.

There's something he wants to tell Jack. Something important.

"Why wouldn't you come back here when I first asked you?" Fuck, no, that wasn't it at all. He doesn't want to remind him of that last day before Dr Tanizaki's visit. That day when he felt reckless enough to invite him back for a final shag. Jack's looking at him quizzically, and Ianto wants to reach out and push him away/pull him closer. He wants to wipe/kiss that little smile from his insufferably smug/gorgeous face.

"You seemed a bit too intense. I think I just realised how young you are and I was worried you were reading too much into it all. I didn't want to take advantage."

"It was a bit too bloody late for being so fucking considerate, wasn't it? You made me feel like scum, and here you are, still acting like a condescending cunt."

Jack's smile seems bemused. "You have a surprisingly foul mouth on you, Ianto Jones."

"Yeah, well I've had a fucking terrible day. I was nearly eaten by cannibals, thanks to you."

"Hey, you're home now. Time to get you cleaned up and then off to bed. Things will look better in the morning."

Accepting Jack's support grudgingly, it isn't until they make it to his bathroom that Ianto realises just how dependent he is right now. His head's woozy and his sense of balance has gone missing in action. Combined with the aching in his muscles and the bruises and abrasions on his flesh, he doubts his ability to get undressed, let alone take a shower.

"Okay, you can leave now. I'll be fine." Jack just stares levelly, his eyebrows raised. "I said you can fuck off. I'll be fine on my own." The snarl shocks him, but he wants Jack out of there. Wants to lick his wounds in private.

"Tell you what, you prove you can get undressed without falling over and I'll go in the other room, but the door stays open. And it's no use looking at me like that. The doctor said I had to monitor you overnight for signs of mental trauma, so you're not getting rid of me, like it or not."

Fuming, Ianto does his best to prove his capabilities, but his fingers don't seem to work properly and one of his shirt buttons pings off onto the floor. Bending down to unlace his boots, he stumbles sideways, bumping a hip painfully against the towel rail.

"Let me help," Jack says, his tone brooking no argument.

Leaning back against the wall, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, Ianto succumbs, moving his limbs when necessary to help out. Trying not to think about Jack's hands on his body. The way it makes his skin itch. The way it makes his nerve endings tingle.

When finally naked, trembling and hugging himself tightly, he hears a familiar sound; opening his startled eyes to a stripping Jack.

"What? You need help standing up. Don't worry, Ianto. I'll behave myself. You can trust me."

Ianto nods once, thinking that he'll have to if he wants to get the filth of the day scrubbed from his skin. The question is, does he trust himself?

*****

_You lean your head back against the cool tiles. You wince as the hot water seeks out all your scrapes and bruises. You let him wash you, his hands gentle, your eyes shut tight. You turn around when he asks you to. You try to meld with the wall._

_You wish he would just get it over with and fuck you._

_You're startled when the water cuts out. You wonder if he doesn't want you anymore._

_You're glad he didn't try anything._

_You wish he had._

*****

Waking slowly, rising up through layers of sleep like warm blankets, Ianto finds himself comfortable for the first time in what seems like a million years. His heavy eyelids flutter open, the dim glow of the streetlight filtering through the thin curtains making it bright enough to see everything. Somehow the figure sitting at the end of his bed seems right. Seems fitting.

Jack's face is solemn in the half light, strange shadows altering the planes of his face. The midnight depths of his eyes draw Ianto's gaze, but he feels like an intruder, so keeps his own eyes half closed, just taking a chance to observe this man he knows so little about, despite all they've done together.

It must be a trick of the light, because for a moment Jack holds untold lifetimes of pain in his eyes and face. Ianto feels goosebumps rise on his arms and shivers, wondering how a man of Jack's age could look so ancient. He must have seen some terrible things in his time. It's no wonder he doesn't open up about them.

Jack looks up at him, and his eyes return to something approaching normal, but still with an unaccountable tenderness softening their usual sparkle.

"Hey there. You're awake."

Ianto just nods, as a memory resurfaces of waking screaming from a particularly terrifying dream, tangled in sweat dampened sheets, to find Jack's arms around him. He'd clung on to him, a rock in the turbulent sea of his nightmarish visions, until he'd eventually succumbed to sleep again. This time the dreams had been held at bay. Could this man repel his internal demons just as he fought off alien threats?

"How are you feeling?"

"Okay, I think." Ianto stretches his limbs, sitting up and hit by a sudden wave of embarrassment as the duvet falls down, revealing his naked chest. Ridiculous really, when Jack's seen and explored every inch of him already. He hugs the duvet around him, grateful for its cover, cringing as he remembers how Jack washed him clean the night before. Handling him like he was a child, gently and patiently sluicing away the filth from that hovel.

Ianto trembles, memories rising unbidden. The contents of that fridge. The stifling darkness of that hood, with the stench of fear from the last poor victim to wear it still clinging to the fabric. The kiss of cold steel on his throat. The certainty of death, cold fear paralysing his body. But Jack's still talking and he fights to concentrate, following the beacon of his voice out from the murky visions that threaten to overwhelm him.

"So I reckon that you should take a few days off to–"

"No."

"I'm sorry?"

"No. I don't want to be here on my own. I want something to do. I'm coming to work."

"You are?" Jack looks unsure, his brow furrowed, perhaps wondering whether to wield his authority. Ianto does his best to look reliable, sane, capable. Not the easiest thing when you're naked in bed.

"Please, Jack. Don't make me stay away."

Ianto catches another glimpse of something shining deep in those dark eyes.

Jack clears his throat. "Okay then. I'll see you at half eight."

As he leaves the room, Ianto whispers, "Thank you." Jack pauses for a moment, shakes his head, and carries on out of the door, pulling it gently shut behind him.

*****

_You settle back into a familiar routine: tidying, fetching, ordering, anticipating... You watch them racing around on their missions, full of that zeal to save the world._

_You couldn't even save__ one woman. You couldn't save yourself from the abyss. _

_You keep your head down as the weeks pass. You throw yourself into re-ordering the archives. You find it helps to focus your errant thoughts. You still find it hard to take the lift down to the lower levels, but the new associations eventually start to overlay the old._

_You find that things can still flood you with grief. You come across a mention of a golden retriever in an old file. You remember her cooing over one in a park. You remember her pleading with you to agree __to get __a puppy. You recall your perfectly sensible arguments against having one in the flat. You wish that you'd given in to her. You wish that you could have seen the joy on her face._

_You think that life is too short to deny yourself..._

_You find that line of thinking dangerous._

*****

Jotting down the last of Toshiko's statement about the events set in motion by the pendant, Ianto looks up to find her staring at his page.

"I didn't know you could write shorthand."

He shrugs. "I don't have much call to use it these days."

"No, I mean, I know so little about you. Gwen, Owen and Jack are full of their stories, but you..."

He gives her a lopsided smile. "I must be pretty boring in comparison."

"No! No, that's not what I meant. I'm sorry. I'm not doing a very good job of expressing myself today."

"You've had a big shock. Finding out all that about Mary." I know how that feels, he wants to continue; to discover that the one you love is a murderer - to see her threaten your colleagues and then to have to watch Jack deal with her. But he chokes on the words, so looks down at the report before him and focuses on that. "I'll send you a copy when I've typed this up, okay?"

"Okay." She smiles tremulously. "Thank you, Ianto. It's been good to talk about it."

Heading down the steps, Ianto ponders what Toshiko just told him about listening in on his thoughts. She must have caught him at a bad moment, because it's not all like that. For instance, right now, heading towards Jack's office, he feels a pleasant warmth inside, although his stomach is still jittery. He wants more of this. More warmth and excitement to drive away the despair.

Jack's sitting there, working through his pile of paperwork. He seems out of his element when doing admin. Surely a man like that should be active, his body in motion. He looks good when he's moving. Ianto tries to stop that train of thought, but doesn't quite manage to before an image of Jack, dripping sweat and thrusting into him, flashes before his eyes.

Looking up, Jack gives him a smile that makes Ianto's stomach somersault. It's not his most dazzling, toothy grin, but it's one he's come to value more now. It's the one that says "friend." It's the one that feels the most genuine of all Jack's vast repertoire. It's the one that he can rest in.

"I've finished taking down Toshiko's statement, sir. I think she's leaving now."

Jack's brow contracts into a worried frown. "How is she?"

"Pretty shaken up. It's been a huge shock for her."

"Did you get the pendant?"

"No sir, sorry." He'd been so caught up in Toshiko's pain that he'd completely forgotten Jack's request.

"I'd better go after her."

Holding out Jack's coat as he slips his arms into the sleeves, Ianto remembers the look in Toshiko's eyes as she talked about Mary.

"Please sir... Jack, be gentle with her."

Jack stares at him. A gaze Ianto does his best to meet squarely.

"It's okay, Ianto. I'll be an understanding boss. A friend, I promise. Hey listen, how about after I'm done we go out for a bite to eat? You look like you could do with some feeding up."

Ianto's alarm must show in his face, as Jack chuckles.

"Don't worry, nothing fancy, just fish and chips. How about it? I know a place that does fantastic gravy. You'd love it: thick, dark, tasty and plenty of it. Whaddya say?"

"Gravy?" Ianto can hear the smile in his voice. Jack remembers him saying how much he loves gravy on chips. That was months ago! "Well, if there's gravy..."

"Great, it's a date. I'll give you a ring when I've finished with Toshiko. Meet you out on the Plass, okay?"

"Okay then."

*****

_You find your hands shaking as you try to wash up the mugs. You tell yourself that a trip to the chippy with your boss does not constitute a date. You wonder if you think that's a good thing, or a bad thing._

_You wonder what you want from him._

_You know you want something._

*****

Licking the grease and salt from his fingers, Ianto looks up to find Jack staring at him, a hungry expression on his face. A memory resurfaces; Jack licking his own cum from Ianto's fingers, and how at the time he'd marvelled at his enthusiasm and his appetite. Remembering how the rasp of Jack's tongue between his fingers had sent a jolt of pleasure straight to his cock. He hastily drops his hand, finding a paper napkin to finish cleaning himself, and ransacking his brain for a safe topic of conversation.

"I was wondering. How could you tell that Tosh was hiding something?" It's been bugging him all evening that he never noticed. He's always considered himself a keen observer of others. Perhaps he's just been too wrapped up in himself just lately.

"Oh, it was subtle, but I've had a long time to learn to read people."

"How old are you, Jack?" And what had Mary meant when she'd said he was different?

"Well that's straight to the point! Don't you know you're not meant to ask a man his age?"

"No, that's women. And you're avoiding the question."

"How old do you think I am?"

Ianto studies the face in front of him. Relatively unlined, yet those eyes hold so much time. And then there's his body. Still fit, but with that thickening around the waist that suggests a man in his prime. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, trying to banish the sudden memory of what those incipient love handles felt like in his hands. Opening them, he finds Jack smirking at him.

"I'm guessing you're in your late thirties, but sometimes you talk as if you're much older."

"And there was me, thinking I had the face of a twenty-five year old." Jack runs his hands over his face with an expression of mock distress, making Ianto chuckle.

"So go on then. How old?"

"I'm warning you, you'll find the age gap insurmountable."

"Try me."

"A hundred and seventy-four."

Ianto sighs. God forbid that Jack should ever be honest and straightforward with him.

"Right, well, you're looking pretty good for it."

"Thanks," Jack grins, running a hand through his hair. "I guess you could say that I have the body of a thirty-five year old, and the experience of someone over a hundred. But then working for Torchwood's a bit like that for all of us." Jack fixes him with a penetrating gaze that makes him turn his attention to the napkin he's been shredding without realising it.

"I should be going now. It's late." Indeed, it looks as if the owner wants to turf them out, having already stacked the chairs up on the empty tables around them.

"You want me to walk you back?"

Ianto looks up, amused. "To my car? I figured you were going that way anyway."

"Maybe. I don't know. Fancy a bit of company tonight, I think. Want to join me for a drink somewhere?"

I'd love to, Ianto thinks, but the words refuse to form. His stomach ties itself in knots and he blurts out something about feeling tired. Jack nods with a sympathetic expression, holding the door open for him as they leave.

*****

_You say goodbye, accepting the brief hug and peck on the cheek. You wonder if this means you've forgiven him._

_You lie in bed, stroking the tingling skin where his lips brushed against you. You want his friendship. You want his body. You wonder if you can have both and get away with it._

_You don't want to fall for him._

_You don't want to risk your friendship. You decided you'll have to look elsewhere. You know just the place._

_You have uneasy dreams._

*****

He can feel the bass vibrating under his feet as he nears the doorway, the buzzing mirroring that in his head and the pit of his stomach. The doorman gives him the once over, a knowing smile on his face, and Ianto dares to stare back, brazen and dangerous.

Inside, the cloying fog of dry ice, alcohol and sweaty male bodies is overpowering. The insistent bass thrums through his whole body and fuels his rising excitement. He'd followed Jack here once, back before they'd met, wearing this exact same outfit, but despite his burning curiosity had never stepped through the doors. It's taken him three weeks this time to work up the courage to go through with this. Now he's here, it's everything he had imagined – a heady mixture of temptation and debauchery.

He takes a moment to acclimatise, watching the writhing mass of bodies on the dancefloor, familiarising himself with the layout of the dimly lit room – the bar, the tables, the doorway to the back rooms... Heading that way, keen to get this over with before he has a chance to bottle out, Ianto feels hands grabbing at him; stroking, coaxing, beckoning. The knowledge dawns that he can afford to be choosy; that his youth and novelty are a prized commodity. Suddenly the wealth of choice is paralysing, and he makes his way to the bar, leaning back against it for support.

His eyes slide over the men nearby, assessing them, and he wonders what it is that he's looking for. Rejecting them one by one for spurious reasons: too fat, to old, too bald, too creepy, too covered in tattoos, too skinny, too hairy... But then a man pushes in next to him - catching the barman's attention - and leans into Ianto's ear, offering him a drink. And because his eyes are blue and his smile wide, Ianto overlooks the cropped bleached hair, the unseasonal tan and the glittery earring. Asking for a scotch, he knocks it back, feeling the warmth slide down his throat and spread its false courage into his bloodstream.

The blond grins at Ianto's empty glass, leans in to his ear again and asks if he wants to dance. Ianto shudders at the thought of going out into that press of bodies, and the inevitable clutching hands. He shakes his head once, hoping he won't have to ask for what he wants. The idea of asking a stranger for something so intimate makes his stomach lurch, even as it arouses him. Maybe this bloke's a mind-reader, though, because the blond moves even closer, pressing up against him; his body heat and the tang of aftershave and fresh sweat almost overwhelming Ianto.

"You want to head out back? Want me to suck you off?" His hand moves down as he speaks, stroking Ianto's growing erection through the denim.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Ianto gulps, opening them to find the man still there, still touching him, amusement crinkling around his eyes. He nods, his throat too dry to speak. And then he's being steered away from the bar, a hand cupping his arse as he walks, nudging him in the right direction. Every step takes him closer to the point of no return, his heart hammering wildly and a fizzing excitement in his belly.

The warren of small rooms and corridors at the back of the club reeks of sex, and Ianto finds himself staring through doorways at scenes to rival his most debauched fantasies. The yelping whimpers of one young man, down on his hands and knees on a plastic covered mattress, make him pause for a moment, fascinated. There's a line of men waiting for their turn behind the burly guy fucking him senseless. That could be him, kneeling there, if he wanted it. Offering himself to anonymous strangers for the taking. Perhaps that what he deserves, after everything he's done. The thought makes his skin crawl, and he shudders. He's glad when the blond guy pulls him away to an empty room with a knowing smile.

*****

_You lean back against the wall. You let him pull your jeans down to your knees. You listen to his appreciative comments without making a reply. You gasp as he deep throats you. You can't help but remember your first time with Jack. You try to keep your mind blank, but you need more than this stranger can give you. You look down and see Jack's dark hair. You feel it silky between your fingers as you thrust into the wet, sucking heat. You smell that delicious musk of his, rather than this stranger's chemical tang. You come so fast it's embarrassing. You feel empty, your orgasm perfunctory and joyless._

_You turn down his request for a fuck. You do your fly up._

_Thanks, you say, your smile stretched tight._

_My pleasure, he says, squeezing your arse._

_You leave the club, turning your new realisation over in your mind. You want more than simple physical release. You want someone who knows you. You want someone who's seen you at your worst and forgiven you. You want someone to sleep beside and help hold the nightmares back. You want someone who knows how to make you laugh._

_You want intimacy._

_You want Jack._


	5. Chapter 5 Moments in Time

**Moments in Time**

Staring into the mirror, Ianto examines the new red tie; its silken length pointing downwards, neatly bisecting his body and ending up tucked into his trousers. He'd not had to deliberate over it. The red silk called out to him from the rail, sumptuous, tactile, screaming of sex. Will Jack notice? Will he understand Ianto's signals, or will he have to make a less subtle move?

He gives himself a critical once over. The tired bags under his eyes have gone now he's managed to get a week of decent sleep, as if the very idea of being with Jack is enough to drive away the worst of his night terrors. This morning he'd surfaced from the comfort of slumber with an aching erection, and a desperate desire for Jack that barely abated after having a wank in the shower. It's got to be today. He'll just have to take the risk. Any more of this wanting and he'll start acting crazy.

On his way out Ianto glances at the deep pile red rug that now brightens his living room floor. He bought it on the same shopping trip as the tie, an impulse purchase made after running his fingers through the soft woollen tufts and imagining how they'd feel under his hands and knees. He closes his eyes briefly, a picture of Jack thrusting into him as he collapses onto his forearms, his cheek rubbing against that velvety softness.

It had better not be one of those days when the Rift misbehaves. He wants to be the one misbehaving.

*****

_You get to work. You curse serial killing madmen and Retcon happy bosses. You make yourself useful, helping out as part of the team. You want him to notice you. You want to make him smile._

_What about the Risen Mitten, you say._

_I think it's catchy, you say._

_You want to kiss the frown off those lips._

_You catch Jack's stopwatch. You feel his body heat, stored in the metal and tingling against your palm._

_Give Ianto a stopwatch and he's happy, Owen says._

_It's the button on the top, you say, trying to catch Jack's eye. You must be horny, to be flirting over a dead body. You try to get a grip._

*****

Ianto sighs, watching the lights of the SUV disappear in the distance. Jack told him to get some rest while they were gone, as they could be all night. Bloody Suzie, hoarding so much useless junk. Rest is the last thing on his mind. He's wound up tightly, desperate for a frenzied release.

And Jack isn't here.

There's nothing for it. He'll have to give himself some relief. All day he's been fighting back his lust, finding excuses to hide away behind filing cabinets and counters when the sight or even the fucking thought of Jack gets him hard. And Jack's been too busy with this serial killer business to even notice him, other than as an information source and stopwatch minder.

Heading back to the main Hub, his fingers run over the reassuring weight of it in his pocket. His overheated imagination starts to turn over ideas of using it with Jack. Of timing... activities. Wondering how long it would take Jack to bring him to orgasm without the use of his hands. Right now, probably less than a minute. He wouldn't even have to undress. Just a bit of dirty talk and the pressure of his mouth against his trousers would do the trick. But if the tables were turned, how quickly could he have Jack panting and giving those adorably sexy groans as he comes? No matter how many tricks Jack's taught him, it would probably take a while, and leave his jaw aching for days. Yes, Jack would definitely have the advantage in any contest of that nature.

Looking down at the hole in the floor he realises where his feet have brought him, as if on auto-pilot. Drawing him to the one place he most wants to be. Not alone, of course, but if that's the best he can do...

He never even makes it to the bed, leaning back against the base of the ladder and remembering a time Jack ambushed him there, ripping open his flies and falling on his knees before sucking him off as if he'd been desperate to do so all day. Whipping a handkerchief from his pocket, he fumbles with his trouser fastenings, breathing in the scent of Jack that seems to permeate this tiny cell. Before he knows it, he's doubling up, gasping; knees weakening as the cum spills over his fingers and drips onto the floor below.

It's not a satisfying orgasm, his body left trembling but still hungry for more. For touch. For attention. For affection. He sighs deeply, cleans himself up and tidies his clothes before climbing back up the ladder. May as well try to get forty winks on the sofa before they all return.

*****

_You toss and turn. You get up and pace around. You wonder if Jack will be able to tell that you've been in his room. You wonder how long the smell of your climax will linger._

_You want him to know. You contemplate going back down there and wanking over his sheets. Your feet start to take you towards his office.__You're stopped by the cogwheel door alarm._

_You're disappointed to see all of them. You make coffee._

_You try to linger while you pass him his cup, but he's too preoccupied with the idea of raising Suzie's corpse. _

_You do your best to help the team. You name the stupid knife. You stand around holding a stopwatch, like a bloody PE teacher. You watch him stroke Gwen's hair back and something inside you twists painfully._

_You want that to be your hair. You want those hands all over you. You want him to be looking at you like he fucking well cares._

*****

The rest of them are busy interrogating Suzie or watching the live feed. Everyone's watered and fed and there's nothing left for him to time or name. So he goes to find the one other person he can look after, taking a tray with coffee and biscuits and wearing the bland mask of hospitality.

The man's sitting on the floor, gently rocking and talking quietly to himself. He looks like a giant child, albeit one with a beard and a beer gut. Ianto feels a stab of compassion for him, locked up as a murderer when it seems clear he has no awareness of what he's done. Can he really be judged culpable, if he was poisoned in some way by the Retcon? Shouldn't that really be Torchwood in there? Shouldn't it be Jack?

He slams the tray down, desperate to keep pictures of Jack locked in a cell out of his mind. There's no way he should be finding that a turn on, is there? But the idea of the arrogant twat being the one constrained - the one forced into a narrow groove rather than ranging all over the place and being so fucking heroic...

It's no good. He tries to sustain the anger but it won't last, because he can't help but admire Jack. Admire him for his air of authority, his energy, his enthusiasm and dogged pursuit of the wrongdoer. And it's all inextricably wrapped up with that charismatic face and powerful body that drive him wild; mixed in with those memories of their debauched couplings seared in to his neurons, and the tentative friendship they've built up in place of physical intimacy these past weeks.

The aroma of the coffee draws him back to the here and now, and he crouches in front of the cell door.

"Hi there. It's Max, isn't it? Right, well I can see you're not the talkative type. I'm Ianto Jones, general dogsbody here at Torchwood, and I've–" He falls back onto his arse as the man-mountain throws himself at the cell door in a rage of beating fists and incoherent roaring. Bewildered, he just stares up until the man finally loses interest and goes back to his silent rocking.

"So, does that mean you don't want the coffee? It's pretty good, but if you're more of a Nescafé man I could probably find some of that somewhere." But it's no use. Max takes no further notice of him. He may as well be invisible. It's just one of those days.

He pushes the tray through the hatch, and leaves Max to his muttered mantras.

*****

_You stare at the Philemon filtered footage as Owen plays it yet another time. You think that this is going to be a very long night, but not the kind you had anticipated this morning. You find yourself drifting with fatigue. You think that this is hopeless. You watch him storm off with the gun, and it crosses your mind that he's a murderer. You don't have the energy to __care any more._

_Ianto, Ianto, he calls. _

_You move as fast as you can. You thrill at the tone of his voice. _

_Captain, you say. You flirt with your torch. Your spirits sink when you find out what he wants. You explain about the lockdown. You wonder why he doesn't realise this. You wonder if you can be of use._

_You watch the water cascading down the tower. You have an idea. You sit and work it through, applying yourself while their voices babble ineffectually._

_I've got reception, sir, you say._

_You try not to look too smug as you hand him the phone. Your fingers burn where his brush against them. You feel his smile warm you right through. You feel hope bubble up inside you again._

_You want to get him on his own._

*****

"Thanks, Ianto," Toshiko says, taking the cup of coffee. "And thanks for helping earlier."

He smiles back at her, remembering the adrenaline rush as he raced to get the gun out and threw it to her, praying she would manage to catch it. Or was she referring to his trick with the mobile reception? Thinking about it, it's been a great day for him. Or was it night? He's been awake for over twenty four hours, but his body is buzzing still, keeping going on a mixture of adrenaline, caffeine and testosterone.

"You look tired, Ianto. You should go home now, get some rest."

But they're not getting rid of him that easily. He'd told himself he'd make a move on Jack before returning home, and he just hasn't had the chance yet.

"Maybe I'll just take forty winks on the sofa. They'll be back soon, and there'll be things to do, coffee to make."

"You're too good to us, you know. I hope Jack's paying you well."

"Oh, don't you worry, he will be." Smirking to himself as he turns away from Toshiko's puzzled face, he ponders just how he can make Jack reward him. Reaching the sofa, he's still no nearer an elegant opening line. He lies down, feels the stopwatch digging into his side, and removes his jacket so it won't crease. Remembering his earlier idea, he smiles, and as he drifts off to sleep a thousand scenarios play through his head. Would Jack be interested in playing games? In competing? Is that even what Ianto wants?

He doesn't wake until Gwen returns after her check up at the hospital, rising refreshed from a deep and dreamless sleep. And by the time Jack returns, the marks of the cushion have faded from his cheek.

*****

_You glance up as he walks into the morgue. You try not to let your leaping stomach affect the way your voice sounds. You try to have a normal conversation. You watch him lean back, and you think he's never looked better._

_You make your move. You use the only line you've come up with._

_If you're int__erested, I've still got that stopwatch, you say. You smile at his baffled face. You rarely get to see him outmanoeuvred._

_Well think about it. Lots of things you can do with a stopwatch, you say. You savour the moment when he catches on._

_Oh yeah, I can think of a few, he says. You see the lust in his eyes answering yours._

_There's quite a list, you say. You want to work through it with him. You know that you will._

_I'll send the others home early. See you in my office in ten, he says._

_That's ten minutes, and counting, you say, clicking the stopwatch as you speak. You wonder how you'll get through them without the others seeing your desire in your face; in your body. You don't really care. You have Jack to look forward to._

*****

Ianto waits until they're all out of the cogwheel door before moving out from behind the kitchen counter; the cups of coffee on it his excuse for staying behind, despite Toshiko's protest that he needs his sleep just as much as the rest of them. He's never felt less like sleeping, his every nerve thrumming in anticipation, his stomach jittery and his cock already half-hard.

Yet even after they've gone he pauses a moment. He has two minutes left. And this feels different, because he's different. This isn't going to be a distraction from his anguish any more. This is a mutual arrangement with a friend. He's never had one of those before, and the idea is peculiar. Is it going to be enough for him? Is he going to want more than Jack's willing to give? Not physically - that would probably be impossible as the man seems willing to try anything - but emotionally.

But there's only one way to find out. Stopwatch in hand, he leaves the cups behind. They'll only get in the way.

Jack's waiting for him, leaning back against his desk with his hands in his pockets and his ankles crossed. Ianto could swear he's undone another couple of shirt buttons, but then again, he's been agonising over whether to go in with or without his jacket on. In the end he chose with, but unbuttoned. He drew the line at loosening his tie, though. There was no need to stroll in looking like some kind of debauched jazz singer. The thought brings a wry smile to his face, which feels better than the nervous frown. He leans back against the closed door, unsure of his next move and wanting Jack to make it for him.

But Jack just stares, no, devours him with his eyes. It really feels like that, like he's a tasty meal about to be eaten alive. He watches Jack's eyes pan down his body, his eyebrows rising with a smirk as he takes in Ianto's state of arousal. Those ten feet of space between them feel like a thousand miles, but at the same time nothing at all, as if they're already silently communing with their bodies. Ianto feels it when Jack shifts his legs, uncrossing them and sitting back onto the desk, leaving an inviting gap between them. A Ianto-sized gap. His arms spread out to either side, hands casually resting on the edge of the desktop. He's open and ready and seems to be reeling Ianto in with some kind of invisible line.

Eventually he has to do something to break the silence. He clears his throat and holds up the stopwatch. "About that list, Jack..." but the words die in his mouth as he realises he has no desire to play kinky games. Not right now. Right now all he wants to do is run over there and crush his body against Jack's. To kiss and suck on those maddeningly sensual lips. To run his hands up and down and under and over...

"Yes, Ianto? What of it? You've got me intrigued, I have to say. I've spent these last ten minutes trying to work out exactly what you're about to propose." His voice is light, teasing, but there's a husky quality that betrays how excited he really is. It matches the dark intensity of his eyes.

It gives him courage, and he takes a step towards Jack. "I was going to propose a contest. A set of timed challenges, with the loser having to perform a forfeit of the winner's choosing."

"I see. That sounds kinda dangerous, for the loser." Jack raises his eyebrows, a smile playing over his lips.

"Oh, they'd have to be fun forfeits. So that everyone wins, in the long run." He takes a step closer.

"So you're thinking of timing what exactly? How long it takes me to fill out a UNIT Alien Hazard report form? And the forfeit is who gets to make coffee tomorrow?" Jack's eyes twinkle as he shifts his legs wider apart.

Ianto takes another step. "Well, that's not a terribly fun challenge or forfeit. I'm sure we could come up with better than that." He licks his lips, his gaze seeming to be stuck on the prominent swelling in Jack's trousers. "No, I was going to start with stripping." The word has a visible effect on Jack's cock, which twitches and grows in length.

"I see. So you want to see who can strip the fastest. Well, I don't think you'll be able to beat me there, Mr. Jones, in your suit and tie. Very sexy tie, by the way."

"No, I didn't mean stripping ourselves. I meant undressing each other. You'd have to keep still and let me take all your clothes off. And if you hindered me in any way that would mean an instant forfeit." He takes another step, so that Jack is almost in touching distance. He can hear his shallow breaths and smell the arousal rolling off him in waves of pheromone scented air.

"Right. And then I'd have to see if I could undress you faster. That could be tricky. I might get distracted. In fact," Jack cleared his throat and licked his lips, "I'm sure that I would be. What would my forfeit be, assuming I lost?"

Ianto runs through all the things he desperately wants Jack to do to him, but in the end there's only one thing that obsesses him and that he needs right now. "A kiss."

"Just a kiss?" Jack chuckles. "I thought you'd have come up with something a bit kinkier than that. I've still got those toys you bought, downstairs." He nods his head towards the hole in the floor.

"No, no, that's not the forfeit. That's what I want. Instead of messing around with this thing," he brandishes the stopwatch, and takes that final step into the space between Jack's legs, placing the timepiece down on the desktop. Jack's hands still grip the edge of the desk, but now he's close Ianto can see how white his knuckles are. He runs his fingertips across them, and feels a tremor ripple through Jack's body.

And then it dawns on him. That Jack is holding back and letting him make all the moves. That he's not forcing him in any way. That there's respect for Ianto's own free will. The affection that wells up inside him is a surprise. He'd expected to be consumed with lust this close to Jack. To be tearing at his clothes and thrusting his body against him. Yet here he stands, gently unbending Jack's fingers from the edge of the desk and lacing his own through them. He's acutely conscious of every place their bodies connect, and the webs between his fingers have never felt so alive, so sensitive to every minute shifting of their grip. He can feel Jack's hot breath against his face, searing his skin. Looking up, he's drawn by the question in those eyes.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?" Jack's voice breaks and he gives a small smile.

"Yes. I'm ready now."

And with that simple truth they are freed, lips connecting gently at first, the kiss soon deepening as their fingers unlace so that hands can grope and grab and squeeze, pulling their bodies so close together that they become one undulating creature, the friction of their motion enough to bring Ianto to the brink of orgasm. And as his head falls back, to let Jack's lips tease his throat, his last thought before letting go is that this is exactly what he's been wanting.

And there's no need to time anything.

*****

_You come with a shout of joy. You see stars. Your knees quiver. You feel Jack holding you up and you feel safe. You realise you're still fully clothed. You giggle._

_You kiss him again, taking your time to explore his mouth. You suck on his tongue, wondering how he can taste so good. You hear him moan, and the sound goes right through you. You want to taste him. You want to make him shout out. You push down those braces. You unbuckle, unbutton, unzip..._

_You fall to your knees._

_You nuzzle into that soft hair, smelling him, reacquainting yourself with his textures. You run your mouth up his shaft. You salivate. You lick the pre-come away with a moan of pleasure as your mouth fills with the taste of him. You want to feel his cock in your mouth, pulsing with his climax. You want to drink him down._

_You swallow his cock, digging your fingers into his arse to bring him further in. You stop only when you're almost gagging as the head touches the back of your throat._

_Ianto, he says._

_You look up at him, staring down at you with wonder in his eyes. You try to smile. You feel him groan, the vibrations running right through you. You pull back, sucking hungrily. You push in again. You watch him, watching you. You watch the way his face and chest flush. You watch the way his eyes darken. You watch the way his chest moves with his gasping breaths. You watch the look of ecstasy transform him as he succumbs. You feel his hands in your hair. You feel him trying not to thrust. You encourage him with your hands._

_You moan as you swallow down his semen._

_You want this to never end._

*****

"I'm all yours. Do what you want with me."

Ianto stares down at that yearned-for body, spread in front of him, already tasted and explored all over, just as his own has been. His mouth is full of the flavour of Jack. His nostrils clogged up with that rich, heady scent of the man. But he wants more.

He reaches out, grasping Jack's erection, feeling the reassuring heft of it against his palm. Climbing onto the narrow bed, he straddles him, their cocks rubbing together and making both men laugh breathlessly. Jack watches him as he reaches for the lube, smiling as Ianto warms it in his hands before applying it liberally to both of them.

"Thought you'd be wanting to fuck me first," Jack says, the smile still lingering.

"Well, you thought wrong." Ianto lifts himself up, savouring that moment when the blunt head presses against him. That moment when between two states, where all is potential; all is ready, and waiting. He laughs, running his hands over Jack's chest. Over the rosy nipples, swollen from his eager attentions. Up to Jack's face. Cupping his cheeks in his hands.

"Sit up," he says, his voice rough with desire.

Jack scrambles to comply, the movement of his body rubbing the head of his cock against Ianto's entrance and making him moan with the sheer goodness of it all. The way their bodies seem to fit together perfectly as he slowly lowers himself, past the delicious burn to that firm pressure. The way his own cock is trapped between their hot, sweat-slicked bodies. The way their lips and tongues meet as he fills himself with that exquisite heat. Pulling Jack in, pushing down on him. Rising again, rocking back until he hits that place inside which sends shivers of joy lancing through his flesh.

They moan, moving together in perfect synchrony, as if one body, one being. Hands grasping greedily, desperately. Kisses turning into sloppy, open-mouthed licking as the pleasure surges through their bodies, leaving no awareness of finesse, but simply a single-minded pursuit of sensation. And then it's on them, the rippling waves of Ianto's orgasm calling a response in Jack, and they heave, shuddering, gasping, laughing.

They collapse into a panting, sticky tangle of limbs.

Running a finger over Jack's lips, tracing the languid smile, Ianto raises Jack's hand and presses a small kiss to his inner wrist.

"Thank you," he says, but doesn't add, _for treating me like I matter_. Gazing into those deep, enigmatic eyes, he wonders if Jack can tell that's what he meant.

"Ianto Jones, I've been missing you." The tone is light, but the eyes remain serious. Something inside Ianto goes into freefall. Could this be–

"Next time you're definitely going to have to do me. There's nothing like a good arse pounding to help me get to sleep." Jack smirks, his eyes twinkling again.

Ianto pulls himself together again. They're friends. They're blokes. There's no reason to expect or want anything else.

"I'd like that," he says, wondering if he could sleep next to Jack on this narrow bed. His mind runs over the logistics of getting a decent sized bed installed in one of the cosier storerooms. Of making sure he has extra sets of fresh clothing here at the Hub.

"But first, I'm going to need a rest."

Jack's already snuggling into his neck. "Hmm... me too."

*****

_You wake, unsure of the time. You feel the weight of his arm pinning you down, his breath tickling your ear. You feel his body pressed hot and clammy against yours. You feel sore and sticky and one hundred percent alive._

_You smile up at the darkened ceiling._

_You don't want for anything more than this._

_You drift back to sleep again._

_**Finis.**_


End file.
